


The Beginning

by AnneElliot



Category: Coriolanus - Shakespeare
Genre: Breathplay, Consensual Underage Sex, Dysfunctional Relationship, Hate Sex, Knifeplay, M/M, Power Play, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneElliot/pseuds/AnneElliot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Menenius convinces Volumnia to send a young Marcius to Greece to learn their fighting style to polish his warrior skills.  Secretly, he's hoping Marcius will learn a little humility and something of the finer things in life.</p><p>It goes about as you'd expect until another young man from the Apennine Peninsula shows up.  It's the start of a life-long... something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [republic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/republic/gifts).



> The prompt was "Everybody knows that Coriolanus and Aufidius were lovers, right? I suspect they had some pretty kinky sex together, and would love to read about it ;-)"
> 
> I wondered when that kinky sex started. I looked up the timing of Coriolanus and found Rome was just a really strong city-state and the Greeks were still the hotshots. At around the same time, I read Tom Holt's "Olympiad" and this is what came out.
> 
> Trigger warnings for under age sex by our standards, violence, breathplay, knifeplay, sounds like dub con but they are both clearly into it, hate sex, clearly a massively dysfunctional relationship.
> 
> I blame Volumnia.

Marcius stalked into the palaestra, disrobed, and stood grimly while the slaves coated him in oil. “Greeks,” he thought. “They are all insane. What kind of idiots coat themselves in oil and then ROLL IN THE DIRT? I do not understand why Menenius insisted on sending me here. Learn from them, BAH. Why would I want to?”

  
When the slaves were finished, he joined the line of boys waiting for the didactos to assign them their matches. The other boys were teasing, shoving, and laughing, but he stood silent and kept his face still. He had to be here but he didn’t have to demean himself by treating Greeks as equals. They all quieted when Sclerus entered and limped down the line.

  
“Oenophilus! Cratus!” he barked. The two stepped forward. “Show these idiots how to wrestle. First one to fall has to wrestle the Roman.”

  
Oenophilus and Cratus were too well trained to say anything but the looks of determination on their faces made Marcius clench his jaw. He was large for 15, but Oenophilus and Cratus were in their early 20s. Not only did they outweigh him, but they had been training for years. Both of them had competed in the last Olympiad. Sclerus was determined to break Marcius and using him as punishment was just the latest in a string of humiliations.

  
“The rest of you,” shouted Sclerus, “spread out around the floor, watch, and try to learn something.” He seated himself on the lone bench. Oenophilus and Cratus both solemnly lowered themselves to the dusty floor and rolled over three times. They carefully held their hands away from their bodies as they arose. After what happened to Aleixo, no one wanted Sclerus to see them dislodge any of the dust clinging to their bodies. Rumour had it that Sclerus gave his Olympic athletes special instruction in cheating without getting caught, but no one was allowed to cheat in his palaestra.

  
“Begin.”

  
Marcius tried to keep his attention on the wrestlers, but he was distracted by the sound of another person entering the palaestra. He tried to look only out of the corner of his eye and was surprised to see another boy about his age enter and disrobe. It was unusual enough for someone to be late, but this boy didn’t look Greek. He was accompanied by a slave who murmured something to the head slave then left. The boy looked around eagerly while the slaves oiled him. He caught Marcius peeking at him and gave him a wide grin. Marcius quickly turned his eyes back to the match. But his efforts to stay focused were useless when the new boy took up a position directly across the arena from him. The new boy’s intense gaze kept capturing his eyes. He actually jumped when a sudden shout heralded Cratus’ victory. Cratus grinned and leaned down to give Oenophilus a hand up. He pulled him up, then whispered in his ear. Whatever he said made Oenophilus flush and turn away angrily.

“Cleander,” shouted Sclerus. “Why did Cratus win?”

“Because Oenephilus kept too much of his weight on his back leg?”

  
“Correct. Roman, get in there.”

  
Marcius moved deliberately into the ring. “Show no fear” had been beaten into him an early age. Besides, he had a plan.

  
Oenephilus gazed down at him angrily. “Just yield, Roman. Tis no shame and I tire of beating a child.”

  
“I am no child,” returned Marcius. “I challenge you to heavy wrestling.”

  
The ring went silent as Oenephilus looked to Sclerus. Heavy wrestling meant no rules – kicking, biting, breaking bones, everything was fair game. The Greeks considered it barbaric, so it was never seen in the palaestra, only on the street. Most people considered that it favoured the larger man, so Oenephilus should have the advantage. Sclerus paused, then slowly nodded once. Oenephilus looked back to Marcius. “You’re on, tiny barbarian.”

  
Solemnly, they both performed the three required rolls in the dirt and stood facing each other. Oenephilus looked down at Marcius and whispered, “I’ll go easy on you.”

  
“Don’t,” muttered Marcius. “You play well, but you’re no match for a Roman in real combat.”

  
Oenephilus flushed red from his face down to his chest.

  
“Begin.”

  
Oenephilus lunged at Marcius, arms spread wide to grab him in a bear hug. Marcius jumped aside and continued to stay just out of reach, waiting for the perfect moment. It came quickly when Oenephilus misread a feint and was momentarily off balance, his weight on his front foot and his arms wind milling. Marcius evaded his arms, and closed in with hard kick directly to the stones. Oenephilus, caught by surprise, brought his hands to his crotch and leant forward. Marcius took advantage by head-butting Oenephilus directly in the nose. The sound of his nose breaking quieted the palaestra instantly. Oenephilus was so off balance a fall was inevitable. Marcius stepped back, but grabbed Oenephilus’ little finger as he fell. He twisted it and held until Oenephilus’ weight pulled the finger out of the socket. Oenephilus made a sound, not exactly a scream, but not exactly words either, as he hit the floor. Blood poured from his nose, his left hand clutched at his stones, and his right hand lay on the floor with the little finger jutting out at an unnatural angle. Marcius raised his foot to stomp on Oenephilus’ neck, but Sclerus barked, “Hold.”

  
Marcius stepped back and folded his arms over his chest. He fought to keep any hint of a smile off his face. Slaves rushed in to help Oenephilus to the healers.

  
“Now do you see why heavy wrestling is not appropriate for civilized men?” asked Sclerus to the room at large. No one answered and the silence grew awkward. No one applauded the victory, either. They simply watched until Oenophilus was out of sight.

  
“You, new barbarian,” roared Sclerus. “What’s your name?”

  
“Tullus Aufidius,” announced the new boy. “But you can call me the lion of Antium.”

  
Sclerus shook his head. “Cub, get in there and show the Roman how it’s done. No more heavy wrestling – pretend you two are civilized rather than a beast and a Roman.”

  
Marcius stood stone faced as the new boy moved confidently into the ring. He watched his movements carefully, looking for clues to his fighting style. Aufidius stood opposite him and gave him a wide grin. Marcius was careful to control his expression while they went through the preliminaries and waited for the signal.

  
Aufidius had good instincts, but clearly didn’t have much training in formal wrestling. His grin never faded, even though Marcius had him pinned embarrassingly quickly. Marcius straddled him, holding him down by the shoulders, leaning close to keep the leverage on his side. He glanced towards Sclerus expecting him to call the end of the bout. Aufidius took advantage of the momentary distraction by lifting his head and pressing his lips to Marcius’ in a parody of a passionate kiss. Marcius froze. He suddenly felt the impulse to return the kiss. No! He reared back to get away from that mouth. Aufidius twisted his shoulders, then his hips, and Marcius was suddenly on his back with Aufidius on top. The watching students erupted in cheers, laughter, and arguments over whether kissing was a valid move.

  
“Cub,” shouted Sclerus. “Get over here now.”

  
Aufidius winked at Marcius, rose gracefully, and glided over to stand demurely in front of Sclerus.

  
“So, you won despite being the worst wrestler I’ve ever seen. Do you think you’re clever?”

  
“No, sir. Just talented.”

  
“I’m training wrestlers not lovers. Save it for your erastês. If you want to learn from me, never do that in my palaestra again. Cheap tricks are fine for barbarians, but while you are here, we are civilized. That goes for all of you. Now, get out of my sight, every last one of you.”

  
The students and slaves disappeared so fast that by the time Marcius got up, he was alone. Marcius successfully avoided everyone except a few slaves by the simple expedient of running laps around the orchard until dinner was served, then heading for the bath house. Once the slaves had helped him scrub off every bit of sand, he made his way into the soaking pool. The water was almost too hot at first, but it felt good on his sore muscles. He closed his eyes and relaxed his body until the sound of footsteps disturbed him. He opened his eyes to check for threats and was surprised to see Aufidius entering the pool.

  
“Marcius,” called Aufidius. “I see you don’t care for their voluptuous feasts any more than I do.”

  
“You’re opposed to decadence? You and your ‘talented’ mouth? I figured you’d be wrapped in purple, listening to poets describe your amazing win, while letting a slave feed you.”

  
“You aren’t mad about that, are you? It was just a joke.”

  
“A joke? Why are you here? You clearly aren’t Greek, so you can’t compete in the games. You’re not a slave, so you must be training for war, like I am. When you are training for war, there’s no time for jokes. Did your father send you all the way here for jokes?”

  
“My father sent me here as part of a balanced education. That includes training for war, training for peace, and enjoying myself. So yes, he sent me here for jokes. Besides, I won, didn’t I? All’s fair in war. If you froze like that in a real battle, I would have killed you.”

  
“You could never kill me. Romans are the best warriors in the world because we would rather die nobly for Rome than make jokes. We will rule the world one day.”

  
Aufidius studied him for a moment. He actually lost his grin. His lips were full and red and expressed his every mood. Marcius rebuked himself. Aufidius’ lips were not useful and he should not be thinking about them.

  
“I thought,” Aufidius began slowly, “that while we were here, we might be friends. The only two who aren’t Greeks. They’re convinced we’re barbarians and we’re the only two who know better. While we’re here, our cities might as well be at peace. So? Friends?” He held out his hand.

  
“Friends?” echoed Marcius. He tried to sneer, but somehow it didn’t seem to come out right. “Friends are for peasants and poets. Warriors only recognize clans or useful allies.”  
Aufidius dropped his hand. “You see, that attitude is why I might have to kill you one day. Too bad. The way you look at me, I can’t tell if you want me to kill thee or fuck thee.”  
“How dare thou? I do hate thee! Worse than a promise breaker.”

  
“We hate alike, Roman.”

  
Marcius lunged at him, determined to shut up that mocking mouth for good. He caught Aufidius by surprise and knocked him under the water, but he quickly learned that Aufidius’ weight advantage mattered as long as their feet were on the floor of the pool. He quickly found himself held underwater. He struggled wildly but Aufidius kept him away from the edge or anything he could grab onto. He felt his breath running out and his vision getting dark. He was dizzy and disoriented. Clearly, he was dying. He parted his lips to let the water in and speed up the process. As he did, he felt lips on his, breathing air into his lungs. He stopped fighting and clutched his rescuer. Strong arms lifted him back to a standing position. His mouth was freed long enough for him to gasp a quick breath and then attacked by strong lips and a tongue that forced its way in. He opened his eyes to see Aufidius kissing him. How did he manage to smile with just his eyes? Aufidius held him with one hand on the back of his head. When Aufidius’ other hand grabbed his waist and pulled them tightly together, Marcius realized part of his dizziness was due to his sudden erection. He also realized with a shock that Aufidius was hard, too.  
Aufidius loosened his hold on Marcius’ head to allow them both to breathe. Marcius struggled for breath. Aufidius’ hand slid down over his ass, almost caressingly while Aufidius’ mouth pounced on Marcius’ neck, licking, kissing, biting. Marcius wasn’t sure at this point whether his near-drowning or Aufidius’ hands and mouth were responsible for his gasps. “Today,” murmured Aufidius between nips, “I’m going with fuck.”

  
At that, Marcius felt a surge of triumph. But he wasn’t about to let Aufidius win. Instead of just clutching him, he moved his hands to Aufidius’ ample backside and moved it to rub their cocks together. He jerked his neck away and covered Aufidius’ mouth with his own. They fought for control until they both had to breathe.

  
Marcius growled, “I’ll fuck thee, beast,” although he secretly wondered if he would last. Despite the water, his cock had never been this hard. He reached between them and held both their cocks in his hand, stroking them together.

  
“So, not a virgin?” taunted Aufidius. His fingers moved surprisingly gently along the cleft between Marcius’ buttocks and gently teased his hole.

  
Marcius drew in his breath sharply, but managed to retort, “Of course, I’m not a virgin. But it’s the first time I’ve had a cub, not a man.” He stroked his thumb over the top of Aufidius shaft, gently pushing the foreskin completely down and sliding over the slit.

  
Aufidius groaned and threw his head back, letting Marcius kiss and bite down his throat. He grunted between clenched teeth, “I’ll show thee who’s a lion and who’s a….ah., urm, boy.” His finger started to slowly enter Marcius’ hole. Marcius discovered that gentle bites on Aufidius’ earlobe produced the most amazing sounds, though he was surprised to hear his own groans and moans as Aufidius continued his slow exploration of his ass.

  
Suddenly Aufidius released Marcius and stepped back. “Not in the pool like the fucking barbarians they think we are.” Marcius took a deep breath. Apparently he wasn’t the only one on the edge. “Fine,” he snapped and stepped out of the pool.

  
He grabbed a towel and made at least a pretense of drying himself off before throwing on his tunic and cloak. Aufidius was doing the same, but carefully arranging his cloak to prevent his erection from being obvious. Marcius had a different plan. He stepped behind Aufidius, grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm up and behind his back just to the point where he knew it was almost painful. He pulled Aufidius tight against him, which had the advantage of leverage and hiding his erection, as well as letting him feel that ass again.  
Aufidius stiffened, clearly wondering whether he should try to break the hold. Marcius decided for him by pressing the knife he’d had with his clothes against Aufidius’ throat.

“Take me to thy quarters, boy,” he growled into Aufidius’ ear.

  
“Well, I guess that settles ‘your place or mine.’ Really, I’m a sure thing. Sheathe that.”

  
Marcius lifted Aufidius’ arm just a bit and was rewarded with a hiss of pain. “Move.”

  
“I’m going, I’m going.” Fortunately, it wasn’t far to Aufidius’ tiny quarters. Marcius removed the knife from Aufidius’ throat, and with a quick thrust of his arm coupled with a foot in front of Aufidius’ ankle, flung him onto the pallet. While Aufidius untangled himself, Marcius threw off his tunic and cloak. As Aufidius started to rise, Marcius put one hand on his shoulder and with the other stabbed his knife into the wall.

  
“Not so fast, lion cub. My knife is in reach. Stay on thy knees and put that mouth to good use.” He let go of the knife and ran his fingers through Aufidius’ hair.

  
Aufidius gave him that mocking grin, and ran his hand over Marcius’ ass. He licked his lips, opened his mouth, and leaned toward Marcius’ cock which was straining towards him. Marcius closed his eyes in anticipation, but instead of wet lips on his cock, he felt Aufidius’ wrist knock his arm away and Aufidius surging to his feet. He opened his eyes just in time to see Aufidius’ mocking eyes as he brought their mouths together again. Marcius decided to let him have his way for a moment to lull him into complacency. While he waited for Aufidius to drop his guard, he enjoyed the feel of a strong mouth on his, a hand gently caressing his ass, and another wrapped around his shoulders. When Aufidius started gently rocking them back and forth, Marcius closed his eyes and was surprised to hear himself hum in contentment. When Aufidius pulled away, Marcius had forgotten he was waiting for a moment of distraction. He opened his eyes and was surprised to see that Aufidius had actually moved them to the other side of the small room.

  
Aufidius grinned wickedly at him. “Has the boy lost his knife? Oh, well, I see something else that needs a sheath.” He sank gracefully to his knees and took the head of Marcius’ cock in his mouth. Marcius felt it through his entire body. His knees were suddenly weak and he clutched at the wall. Aufidius seemed determined to prove that his tongue was the most agile in all of Greece. He swirled his tongue around the foreskin and even under it. He licked delicately along the slit, inserting his tongue, then went back to sucking. His hand fondled the base of Marcius’ cock in time with his tongue. Marcius was back to gasping. He was so intent on the sensations in his cock, he didn’t notice Aufidius reaching into a jar of olive oil and lubricating the fingers of his other hand until he felt a finger reaching into his hole. He opened his mouth to protest, but just then Aufidius sucked almost his entire cock into his throat. He had never been that deep into a mouth before. He heard himself cry out some strange syllables, not even knowing if they were Latin or Greek or what they were intended to convey. Aufidius kept sucking as his finger was joined by another and probed deeper and deeper until with a twist, he hit a spot that Marcius didn’t know existed. The pleasure he felt was so extreme, he forgot all appropriate consideration. He arched his back and Aufidius obliged by rubbing that spot again. Marcius knew he was done. He grabbed Aufidius’ head and fucked his mouth. It only took two deep thrusts and he was spurting down Aufidius’ throat while calling on Zeus, Venus, his mother, and every god he could think of.

  
Aufidius swallowed most of it and the feel of his throat constricting against his cock made Marcius want to come again. He collapsed against the wall as Aufidius sank back on his heels. Aufidius wiped his face on his tunic, then stood and guided Marcius to the pallet.

Marcius felt as though all his limbs were willow, bending under the wind. He lay gasping for breath as Aufidius dropped his cloak and tunic on the floor and reached for the wine jug. He took a quick pull from the jug, swishing it around his mouth and swallowing. Marcius watched his throat move as he swallowed and felt a twitching in his cock. Aufidius held the wine jug out to Marcius with a questioning look. Marcius shook his head, so Aufidius put it down and grabbed the olive oil. He joined Marcius on the pallet, pressing a kiss to his lips and then kissing his way down his neck to the notch where his heart beat. He licked the notch and then nipped with his teeth. Marcius was too drained to even move.

  
Aufidius reached his talented fingers down between Marcius’ legs and gently into his hole. He rubbed oil everywhere, then removed his fingers, and oiled his cock. He lifted Marcius’ legs over his shoulders and positioned himself at Marcius’ entrance. He took Marcius’ face in his hands, leaned down and kissed Marcius again. Then, he slipped his hands down to Marcius’s throat. He tightened his hands around his throat.

  
“What shall it be today, my beautiful Roman?”

  
“I’m not THY Roman.” Marcius manage to gasp. Aufidius shook his head and tightened his grip. As he shifted, his erect penis nudged at Marcius’ opening.

  
“Thou art mine or I am thine. But today, should I kill you or fuck you?” He leaned down for another deep kiss, then pulled back and raised his eyebrow.

  
“Fuck me,” Marcius began, then gasped as Aufidius thrust into him. He was still sensitive from his orgasm and the pain caught him by surprise. Aufidius remained motionless, watching him breathe through it, until Marcius managed to finish gasping, “before I kill thee, cub.”

  
At that, Aufidius began fucking him. This was no gentle loving, this was hard and deep and more like battle. The pain and pleasure mingled till Marcius couldn’t tell them apart. Suddenly, Aufidius shifted his position and the new angle hit that spot again. Marcius cried out and felt his cock spring to attention again. Aufidius kept thrusting, pulling almost out and then hitting that spot over and over. Between his cock rubbing between their hard bellies and Aufidius hitting that spot, Marcius thought he would die from the pleasure alone. Just as he almost couldn’t stand it, Aufidius cried, “Marcius, my Roman,” and his entire body stiffened. Marcius felt the surge of Aufidius filling him and that pushed him over the edge again. He spurted between them, covering their chests and hitting their chins.

 

Aufidius collapsed on top of Marcius. Marcius managed to untangle his legs, and wrap them around Aufidius’ waist. He couldn’t resist planting kisses on Aufidius’ cheek. No way would he tell Aufidius that he’d always been fucked from behind. Did looking your partner in the eye explain this odd reluctance to separate? For the few minutes it took for Aufidius to recover, Marcius pondered the oddities of this encounter. It was different than anything he’d experienced but he couldn’t quite figure out why.

All too soon, Aufidius lifted himself up and grinned at Marcius. “I think fucking is more fun than killing but it’s a really close thing.”

  
Marcius pushed his shoulder. “Get out of me, you idiot. Killing is for honor, fucking is to relax. Fun is not the point of either one.”

  
Aufidius rolled off him and grabbed his tunic. He wiped off his chest and chin, as he said, “Seriously, Marcius, learn to have some fun. You don’t want to turn into a grumpy old man before your first battle.”

  
He leaned over and began to clean Marcius with his tunic. Marcius let him, wondering why even as he said, “Wasting your time on fun and friends is what makes you weak. That’s why Rome will always win.”

  
“I’m in too good a mood to argue, Roman. Tomorrow, I’ll explain all the reasons why you’re wrong, but for now, let’s sleep.”

  
“I’ll see thee in the palaestra. I’ll fight with none but thee.” Marcius started to rise, but Aufidius crawled onto the pallet and pulled him back down.

  
“Stay with me tonight.”

  
“Why?” asked Marcius, genuinely puzzled. “What would be the point of that?"

  
“Pleasure. Warmth. Starting to be friends during this amnesty.”

  
Marcius continued to stare at him looking completely puzzled. “I’ve told you my feelings on pleasure and friendship. Why would you suggest those reasons?”

  
Aufidius sighed. “Fine. It’ll be convenient in the morning for you to fuck me. Or kill me if that’s what you decide.”

  
Marcius smiled. “Now that makes sense.” He turned on his side to give Aufidius room on the pallet. Aufidius moved against him from behind until they were touching all along their bodies, and draped his arm over Marcius’ waist.

  
As they drifted into sleep, Aufidius murmured, “Good night, my Roman.”

  
He was almost sure he heard, “Good night, my lion,” but it might have been a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this present makes your Yuletide happy! Thanks for a fun prompt!
> 
> I haven't written much porn or any fight scenes, so constructive criticism is welcome! The descriptions of wrestling are based on Tom Holt's Olympiad. (You should read it. It's fun and fascinating.) I assume he did his research.
> 
> didactos = teacher  
> palaestra = gymnasium/training arena  
> erastes = older male lover/mentor
> 
> There are more adventures in my head so I might add to this later.


End file.
